


The First and Last Time

by AnnabethBlack



Category: Drawfee RPF
Genre: College, Gen, Suspense, We're sorry, Wiki Roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabethBlack/pseuds/AnnabethBlack
Summary: I heard of you not too long before I saw you.I felt your presence shortly before we met.The first time I saw you I was frightened by the dark.The last time the dark was not the threat.(Suspenseful One-Shot)





	

I heard of you not too long before I saw you.

I felt your presence shortly before we met.

The first time I saw you I was frightened by the dark.

The last time the dark was not the threat.

 

It’s hard to believe that once there was a time where I lived my life without you. It’s hard to believe I had lived the vast majority of my life not even knowing your name. Upon reflection it feels like I should have come to know you sooner. In hindsight it seems so strange to me that I haven’t always known who you are. How could I have ever not known who you would become to me? The sad truth is that in real life there’s no such thing as prophecy. Foreshadowing is a technique used in books and movies. In this world there was no way for me to know you were coming. There was nothing that could have warned me just how much you would rock my world. I couldn’t have known you were on your way to me and now I just feel like a fool for being so ignorant. I feel like a fool for being so blind.

Before there was you, just before there was you, my life was in a downwards spiral. My girlfriend had left me after taking everything I had. My faith, my love, my identity walked out of the door when she did, all because she “wasn’t feeling the lesbian thing anymore”. I suppose it was a legitimate reason to her but to me… I was nothing more than a failed experiment, cast aside because I wasn’t giving what she wanted even though I gave her everything that I had. She left me, an English girl in an American college, a fish out of water. She left me alone and vulnerable to watch as she smashed her lips against a jock’s. He was everything I wasn’t: tall, pale, popular, satisfied. I was left the envious green imp in the shadows. I was left alone.

But she is gone. I cast her from my head. Now I think about you. I think about your introduction. I think about our story, all of it: beginning, middle, and end. More than anything else now I think about when I first heard of you. My mind is obsessed with that first mention of your name. It resonates with me to the point of insanity. It was such an innocent moment. To have such a devastating impact you think it might have been more significant but it wasn’t. Day after day I try and take myself back to where it all began. I try to take myself back to that innocent moment. I just want to feel that way again: breathless, naïve, alive. I want to take myself back to that time and bundle up all those emotions in a thick layer of anticipation because now I know what is coming. Now I know where the future takes me.

It takes me to you.

The first time I heard of you it was nothing more than a lazy Sunday morning. Grey light filtering in through the slit of my closed curtains of my dorm room. Birds chirping insistently in the rustling trees outside while inside the world was still as all the hungover indoors. I was bundled up like a human burrito in a million different blankets, only my feet and head sticking out to feel the cool air on my skin. I had been awake for so long, letting the autoplay function of YouTube be my companion through a sleepless night. Who knows how long I had been up watching old Drawfee videos? Like Alice I had fallen down an inexplicable rabbit hole and lost myself in a world of amazing art and comedic dialogue. My mind was spinning with the wheel of Wiki Roulette when all of a sudden you appeared.

The first time I heard your name it made me smile so wide the dry skin on my lips cracked. Pucconici. Oh how the Americans had butchered your name. They mispronounced as _poo-cone-e-chee_ , the men who created you as a spur of the moment joke. What’s funnier than an evil skeleton clown raised from

the dead by a high-school necromancer? They drew you so small and made you sound so foolish. They were the foolish ones though, not you. You have never been the joke that they made you to be. You became something far more than anyone could have imagined all on your own.

I only ever heard your name spoken once more after that. I didn’t even need to hear it again, you were already stuck with me. Your name filled my mind with endless possibilities that I didn’t dare believe in. You weren’t a joke, you were full of potential. As I drifted off into a midday doze the imitations of your throaty cackle barely registered in my hazy consciousness. To me, in that moment, you were everywhere but back then it was just an illusion. You didn’t exist outside of a video. You were no more physical than a drawing. It was never meant to be real.

But then one day I felt your presence.

On that day, the day that I heard your name, the idea to you blossomed into existence in my mind. It was a flower left unnoticed for a while. I neglected it, favouring other ideas instead. I lost myself to other videos. I was ensnared by other drawings. As entranced as I had once been, I moved on. That’s what I had to do. I let my mind move on as much as I could. The past was a portal to misery that I was desperate to outrun. The past was a portal that you had been sucked in to. I never expected to hear from you again.

After that first time I filled my mind constantly with whatever it would absorb. Distraction after distraction, video after video. I did what I had to do to stay sane. Anything remotely unpleasant was shoved down into the deepest corners of my memory and buried underneath piles of forgettable events. I guess that you just got swept up in the trash, hidden under the guise of something unimportant. You became nothing more than a faded memory. You devolved into an old forgotten joke. I lost you to the darkened corners of long-term memory. For a while you were just gone.

But then you weren’t.

The first time I felt you I was alone again. This time it was not a lazy Sunday morning. Instead it was an equally warm spring evening. The sun was about to rest its head to let the birds sleep. The sky was fading into a deep blue while streetlights hid the emerging stars. Just like before I was all alone but not wrapped up. There weren’t many layers to protect me that time. There were no walls to hide me from the glares of other students. I walked alone across the quad to my dorm. That’s just how I was meant to be.

The first time I felt you I had turned a corner. There was a side door to my building that led me straight to my room. There was a lock on the door and a key in my bag. There was a rustling in the trees and a feeling. There was a feeling of prickling skin and hairs standing on end. There was a feeling of being watched as I fumbled for the key. There was a feeling of anticipation. That feeling was you.

I thought I heard footsteps behind me. I thought I heard the ghost of a laugh. I thought I heard the rustle of baggy pants and the squeak of a rubber nose. I thought I heard the crack of bones but I didn’t. I couldn’t have. All I could hear was the rustle of papers in my bag. All I could hear was the heaviness of my own breath. All I could hear was the distant noises of life just around the corner but still so far away. I couldn’t have heard you. You were nothing more than a distant feeling. You were nothing more than a passing joke.

I shouldn’t have felt you. I shouldn’t have heard you.

Pucconici, you were not real.

But I did because you are.

Our story now has a beginning. It started with an idea and then a feeling. But our beginning was so one-sided. All I can say for certain is that I knew you. Did you know about me too? Did someone mention me as a joke or was I something more? Somehow you found me, picked me out from a crowd. I only know what I was there for. I only know my side of things. I only know our story has a beginning. I also know now that is has an end.

The first time I saw you dusk had cracked down upon the world outside. The sounds of life barged in through my open window. The walls and the floors pulsed with the intense vibrations from distant music. I sat in the dark by my window all alone. I stared out at the colourful mass of people. They looked like a pit of luminous snakes writhing in the dark. In truth it was just the glowsticks coiled around their necks and bound to their wrists. It seemed like the entire campus was partying outside of my window. They were everyone and no one. I wanted to be no one too.

The first time I saw you I was alone in my room. Over the chaos outside I heard a rustle from within. I heard a creak of a floorboard. A ghost of a laugh. I turned my head to look behind me. Nothing was there. The room was undisturbed. My heart beating faster than the music. My heart was ready to burst through my chest. I stared and stared into the dark. Nothing was there. The back of my neck prickled. My arms stung as goosebumps sprouted up. I stared and stared. Nothing was there. Blood crashed through my veins. I choked on anticipation. I stared. I stared but there was nothing there.

I turned back to the crowd outside my window. I tried to shake the feeling off. I tried to lose myself in others. I scanned the crowd. I wanted a distraction. An interesting face.

Then my eyes met yours.

Then my heart stopped.

How many times have I seen you that way? How many times have I scanned a crowd and been startled by your face? All those times I’ve been searching for something and met your hollow eyes. All those times I’ve gazed away to find your cracked yellow smile. I saw you once and then you were everywhere. In the queue at lunch. In the back of my class. In the courtyard at dusk. In my dreams at night.

The more I saw you the more you consumed me. Each time I saw your face, each time I thought your name, I fell deeper into the hole. The middle of our story is just endless encounters. You did not approach me. I dared not go to you. We just stared at one another. That could have been enough. I wish it had been enough.

But our story has an ending. It has a little more than long looks in the dark. It is more than just the thoughts in my head. Our story has an ending. It has to do. After all, who stops at just looking when there’s the option to touch?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Pucconici as a character. He is the intellectual property of @DrawfeeShow


End file.
